Page 15 of Merry Little Sugar Rush
He walks with me as we make our way toward the bakery. My parents are far enough ahead they can’t hear our conversation as I ask, “How’s your grandpa doing?”
“Really good. I guess they got him up today. When Gram got there, he was sitting in the chair. She couldn’t wait to tell us when she came back to the farm for a bit this afternoon.”
I look from the left to the right, making sure no one is coming before we cross the street.
“A jaywalker, huh? I should have known you’d turn into a delinquent.”
I bark out a laugh and start digging my keys out of my pocket. “I’m the furthest thing from a delinquent. The worst I’ve ever done is steal a piece of candy from the grocery store when I was eight. Mom made me march back in there, hand it over, and apologize.”
“I remember. You were grounded for two weeks and couldn’t come out and play.”
“It was the worst! I wanted to play outside so bad,” I whine, recalling how heartbroken I was when my friends were out playing at the park and riding their bikes together, while I was stuck in my room with no TV or phone. It was torture, and I definitely learned my lesson.
I go to the front entrance and release the lock. “Come on in,” I state, holding the old glass with wood trim door wide enough for him to enter.
“Where should I put these?” he asks.
“We’ll go put them by the back door. I’ll take them upstairs when I go up for the night.”
He gives me a strange look. “You live up there?”
“Yep,” I reply, moving into the kitchen and turning on the light. “It’s incredibly easy to get to work in the morning,” I tease.
Burk gives me one of those panty-melting smiles that makes me shiver as it reaches its mark. “So, what all do you have to do yet?” he asks, taking in the space.
“I have to clean up from tonight’s pop-up shop. Some dishes, sweeping, mopping, that kind of thing,” I tell him, removing my coat, gloves, and hat and hanging them on a hook at the back door. He does the same as I move to the industrial double sink and start the water.
“I can help.”
“You don’t have to. I know you have to work tomorrow,” I insist, adding the dish soap to the running water.
He shrugs his shoulders and looks around. “I’ve got time. Broom?”
I point to the closet on the back wall. “There.”
He nods and retrieves the item, getting to work. Fortunately, it’s not too bad, since I cleaned after I closed this afternoon and had most of the baking done. The only dishes are the trays I used in the display case and a few stirring spoons and cups left from the coffee drinks.
I try to ignore how easy and comfortable it feels to have him here. Chance, a former boyfriend I had for about six months, never offered to help me. Even if I was cleaning up at the end of a long day, he would take the free coffee drink and pastry I prepared and sit and watch me. Now, don’t get me wrong—I don’t expect anyone to help—but the occasional offer would be nice.
I start to clean the serving trays and whatnot, stacking them carefully in the drying rack. As I work, Burk says, “So, I have a question.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I make eye contact with him and nod, indicating he can ask whatever it is he’s curious about.
“Your mom and sister went up on stage during the Miss Snowflake Falls pageant as former princesses. You didn’t want to compete?”
I rinse off the spatula, slip it onto the rack, and turn off the water. “I did. I came in second.”
He stops his sweeping and levels me with a look. “What? How could you not win? You would have made a perfect princess. You’re smart, talented, love Christmas. You’re…beautiful.”
Beautiful.
I feel the blush creep up my neck and avert my gaze for a moment while I try to collect my thoughts. “I was sad to lose, but the young woman who won deserved it. Do you remember Tabbi Smythe?”
“I do. She had dark hair and was friends with Lydia Johnston, who lives near the farm.”
“Yes, that’s her. To be honest, she made a great princess,” I tell him, diving back into the dishes to finish the trays.
He’s quiet for several seconds before breaking the silence. “You would have been better.”
